OLD POSTS I CAN'T BEAR TO LOSE, pt. 2

Signs of Trouble (5/30/09)
We've had the discussion a dozen times since Betty started a kitchen fire a month after moving in. DON'T USE THE STOVE. NO, NEVER. YES, I MEAN YOU. ALWAYS. NO STOVE. EVER. NO COOKING. NEVER. NOT EVEN A LITTLE. EVER EVER EVER.

It's been months since we've had to discuss this, but yesterday I had a large package of hamburger patties defrosting on the two front burners when I heard the click-click-click-click of the ignitor. She was trying to light the burner to soften the earpieces of her reading glasses. Fortunately, she doesn't know how to use the stove, or flames would have melted the plastic wrap on my hamburger before I could have stopped her.

So we had the discussion for the 13th time, and she said that every sane person (meaning everybody except me) knows you use the kitchen stove to adjust your glasses! I tried to raise my voice just enough to make an impression on her, but apparently it didn't take, because she tried it again this morning. I heard the clicking from upstairs, but David was closer and he stopped her.

There is now a sign above the stove that says DO NOT USE THE STOVE. There is a similar sign on the patio door that says DO NOT LET ANY CATS OUTSIDE. That one has worked fairly well, except when a cat escapes, comes back to that door, and she opens it to let that cat IN, thus letting two or three others OUT.

She saw the new sign and asked, "What's wrong with the stove?" I explained, but she no longer remembers trying to use the stove, nor why she's not allowed, and so she's upset about the sign. She keeps insisting the sign is not necessary because she'd never do anything she's been told not to do, but she doesn't remember what I've told her not to do, and she certainly doesn't remember that she doesn't remember. So we do our little Dance Around the Logic Pole. If arguing with Betty was aerobic exercise, I'd be a size 4.

My Two Moms (6/9/09)
Well, not really. One's Betty, my MIL, and one's my mother, but I'm starting to see worrisome similarities. My mom lives one neighborhood north of us and it older than Betty, but comes from a long line of women who lived long lives, free of dementia. I'm afraid my mother, 89, is going to break that winning streak. She agreed to give up her car last week, but she's having more and more trouble keeping details straight in her mind. I took her shopping yesterday, along with the Korea high school student who lives with us, and Ra Youn helped my mother carry her groceries into her house. Mom had her keys in her hand, and tried to open her front door by clicking the electronic car door opener thingy. She covered up quickly when it didn't work, but I saw it.

We have a follow-up appointment with her neuro-psychologist on July 1. I'm going to insist that he take a look at her list of medications to see if there's something there that explains this, and I'm going to ask him to put her on Aricept.